Having A Ball
by Red Witch
Summary: The ISIS gang bonds over mini golf while hanging around San Marcos. Who knew a dictator would have so many amenities in his palace?


**The disclosure telling you that I don't own any Archer characters or golf movie quotes is three under par. More madness and ideas of what the ISIS gang might have done to keep boredom at bay between Palace Intrigue and Filibuster. **

**Having A Ball**

"FORE!"

"YIKES!" Cyril and Ray ducked as the golf ball flew over their heads.

"Pam for the last time! This is mini golf! You don't have to hit it so hard!" Cyril snapped. He was wearing a white golfing outfit with a white hat.

"You missed the hole! Gotta take a drink!" Cherlene giggled as she held a beer bottle of some kind in her hand. She was wearing her usual outfit.

"No problem," Pam smirked. She was wearing a white female golfer's outfit. She took a bottle of some alcohol from a golf bag filled with ice and bottles.

"I admit it, I like these new rules," Mallory remarked as she stood to the side wearing her usual grey outfit and a minor scowl. She took a drink from a bottle of scotch in her hand.

"Well it was the only way we could think of to get you to play mini golf," Ray remarked. He was wearing a tan golfing outfit.

"Eh, you're not wrong," Mallory shrugged. "I've never much cared for golf much less miniature golf. It all seems pointless. Just walking around with a club hitting a stupid little ball into a stupid little hole. And they usually don't let you drink on the course even though it's hot outside!"

"Not to mention golf courses are bad for the environment," Lana spoke up. She was wearing her usual navy blue maternity dress.

To this everyone groaned. "No one cares Betty Bleeding Heart!" Cyril snapped.

"Yeah give it a rest on the environmental crap will ya?" Pam remarked. "Nobody wants to hear it!"

"I'm just saying…" Lana began.

"And you keep on saying," Mallory interrupted. "Lana in the first place this mini golf course was already built on the palace grounds of San Marcos. So there's no point whining about something that's already here."

"I'm not whining!" Lana snapped.

"Uh yeah, you kind of are," Ray said.

"And secondly we're in the middle of a jungle on an island in the middle of freaking nowhere!" Mallory went on. "How much damage can we do?"

"Ooh! Is that a challenge?" Cherlene giggled.

"No, it isn't!" Cyril, Ray and Lana said at the same time.

"And third it is exhausting work running a drug cartel _slash_ arms cartel _slash_ country music singer _slash_ an **actual **country ," Mallory waved. "We need something to do in our downtime. Something other than playing dress up," She gave Cyril, Ray and Pam a look.

"Hey I don't have too many skinny bitch clothes," Pam pointed out.

"And Calderon has tons of closets all over the place," Ray added.

"It would just be a waste to not at least try some of the outfits on in there," Cyril said.

"Besides don't think we don't see that big ass ring you got there," Ray pointed.

"Which you obviously **borrowed** from Juliana," Cyril said.

"What? This little thing?" Mallory looked at the large diamond on her right hand. "It goes with my outfit!"

"Uh huh," Ray remarked.

"And it's not like she needs it right now," Mallory waved. "Diamonds don't really go with dungeon sheik."

"Well we need you to get your bony ass in gear and hit the damn ball," Pam pointed at Mallory as they went to the next hole.

"Oh is it my turn already?" Mallory groaned. "Wasn't it my turn a minute ago?"

"Yes on the last hole. And now you have to go again on **this** hole," Lana said. "That's kind of how it works."

"Fine," Mallory fumbled putting down her ball with one hand. Then holding her putter with one hand while still holding the bottle of scotch.

"It kind of helps if you put the drink down and use both hands," Lana said.

"Since when are **you** an expert at this?" Mallory snapped. "Who are you? A member of the Honorable Company of Edinburg Golfers?"

"Everybody knows that's how you do it!" Lana shouted back.

"Well obviously not everyone," Mallory grumbled. She held the putter in one hand and thought for a moment.

"Weeeeeeell, we're waiting!" Pam said.

"All right already!" Mallory hit with her one hand while she took a drink. Surprisingly it went into the hole.

"Hole in one!" Cyril was stunned.

"See? You don't need both hands to hit it!" Mallory crowed.

"It's called putting," Cyril corrected. "I'm guessing you never took Archer to play mini golf."

"Well not Sterling, no," Mallory sighed. "Unfortunately I did play mini golf. Once…"

Flashback to a few years ago.

"Damn it, how drunk am I to let you talk me into this?" Mallory groaned.

Krieger was preparing to putt. "This crowd has been deathly silent. Cinderella story outta nowhere, former scientist now about to become Master's champion."

"Are you sure there isn't a bar around here?" Mallory remarked.

"Na, na, na, na, na, na…" Krieger said as he putted the ball rather hard. "It looks like a miracle! It's in the hole! It's in the hole! It's in the hole!"

"IT'S IN OUR HOLE!" Someone playing ahead of them shouted.

"WHAT PART OF LET ME PLAY THROUGH DO YOU PEOPLE NOT UNDERSTAND?" Krieger yelled.

"Seriously? Not even a vending machine or something?" Mallory groaned. "Ooh that's a million dollar idea. Vending machines that sell alcohol."

"AAAAAAAAHHH!" Some children ran by with their father.

"NEVER INTERRUPT MY AIM YOU LITTLE PUKES!" Krieger ran after them waving his putter wildly.

"Who let these children on the course?" Mallory was confused. "And where are the caddies that serve us drinks?"

"OH GOD WHAT IS THAT MAN DOING TO THAT WINDMILL?" Someone yelled.

"SOMEONE CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT!" Another person yelled.

"MUAH HA HA HA!" Krieger laughed insanely. "Wow. Maybe I shouldn't have taken all those pills before I started playing? Oh well! BURN BABY BURN!"

"SERIOUSLY! WHERE THE HELL ARE THE CADDIES AROUND HERE?" Mallory yelled. "I NEED A DAMN DRINK!"

Back to the present.

"Fourth worst outing with Krieger ever," Mallory groaned as she took another drink. "And third worst time at any kind of golf course."

"Well I'm enjoying myself," Pam said. "I've never played an official mini golf course before."

"An official mini golf course?" Cyril asked.

"My Uncle Bill made up one for my cousins and the rest of us kids," Pam said. "Uh little factoid here. Corn fields make lousy golf courses. My cousin Earl got lost for a week in one trying to find his ball. Had to eat his way out."

"I wish I could say the ending of that anecdote surprised me," Mallory remarked. "But considering what I already know about your clan of cheese enthusiasts it doesn't. Eating one's way out of a situation seems to be rather an all too common theme. That and the continuous stream of noxious gas that passed through those gigantic buttocks."

"I've never played mini golf before either," Ray admitted.

"I guess they didn't have mini golf at that trailer park you grew up in," Mallory scoffed. "Kind of hard to hit a ball with all the moonshine stills everywhere."

"You know…?" Ray glared at her.

"I must think though you enjoy playing in the rough," Mallory went on. She turned to Lana. "What about you Lana?"

"They didn't exactly have many mini golf courses in my neighborhood," Lana admitted.

"So I was right! You're **not** an expert!" Mallory crowed as she took another drink.

"My Aunt Sophie had a mini golf course on her property but she never let me play on it, stupid old cow," Cherlene grumbled. "Just because I burned that one stupid gazebo on her lawn. So I had to burn down her golf course. Ha! Ha! That fire was so pretty."

Everyone looked at her. "Okay not her entire golf course, just a few holes and some trees," Cherlene admitted. "And some clothes in her closet."

"And that's why we can't have lighters or matches in the office," Mallory groaned.

"What office?" Lana gave her a look.

"Oh right," Mallory waved. "You know what I mean."

"I used to play golf and mini golf with my father," Cyril said. "He made me learn the sport. Said it would build character."

"There goes that theory," Lana quipped.

"You know I am the president of San Marcos!" Cyril snapped. "I took over this country with just one tank! You should show me more respect!"

"Oh shut up Cyril," Mallory said. "We're already going to throw this ridiculous game to you. Don't milk it."

"We are?" Cherlene blinked.

"Yes, you simplistic singing sap," Mallory groaned as she drank. "That is the polite thing to do when you are playing with the head of a country. You let him win. No matter how inept he is at the game. Am I the only one here who knows of a little thing called manners?"

"I don't really care. It takes the pressure off," Pam waved. Then she prepared to take another shot. "FORE!"

"FIVE!" Cherlene yelled as Pam's ball flew through the air.

"AAAAHHH!" Cyril and Ray ducked as they were nearly hit by the ball. Which hit a few trees then managed to somehow ricochet back to the hole and land in the hole.

"Hey hole in one! And I wasn't even trying!" Pam cheered. "It was just dumb luck!"

"Emphasis on the dumb," Mallory groaned. "Pam, you almost broke my drink! Speaking of which," She finished her drink. "Caddy!"

A soldier ran up with the bag full of ice. "I think I'll move to the gin next," Mallory gave the soldier the empty bottle and picked up another one. "My hand felt a little shaky on that last one."

"Maybe we should put some pressure on?" Cyril groaned. "Besides I don't need you to throw the game. I have skill."

"Since when?" Lana scoffed.

"I'll have you know I was only my high school golf team and we almost placed second in the state championships," Cyril remarked as he began to put.

"So you came in third?" Lana raised an eyebrow.

"Technically fourth but still…" Cyril began.

"Fourth?" Lana scoffed.

"Who are you my father?" Cyril snapped. "Like it was my fault that half my team couldn't drive under par if it could save their lives! And don't get me started on my so called captain's putting!"

"Oh God," Mallory groaned as she took a drink. "Here we go…"

"He missed like six easy puts but did my father see that? Noooooo!" Cyril grumbled. "He just kept going on and on about that **one time** I hit the ball in the sand trap! Yes, I know I had to take a sixteen on that hole but still…"

"Now entering on Track Nine," Lana groaned. "The Daddy Issues Express!"

"You want to know who's a **real disappointment** Dad?" Cyril snapped. "You! You had a job where you literally had three months off every year but for some reason never really had enough time for me except to tell me how disappointed you were in having me! Hey maybe if you actually spent time **teaching me** instead of **criticizing me** I wouldn't be such a disappointment? EVER THINK OF THAT DAD?"

"This is like our second date all over again," Lana groaned.

"Well guess what old man?" Cyril seemed to be in a world all his own. "I'm **somebody **now! No thanks to you! I'm running my own God damn country! And I took it over all by myself! All you ever took over was the buffet line at the annual Superintendents' Conference! HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES HUH YOU OLD BASTARD?"

"Ray…" Lana sighed.

"On it," Ray said. He then slapped Cyril. "Snap out of it! Like you're the only one with Daddy issues? Just take a drink and get over it!" He slapped him a few more times.

"Thanks…" Cyril was dazed. "I went away for a while. I'm back now."

"You need a drink?" Pam asked.

"Yes. Yes I do," Cyril was still a little dazed.

Lana rolled her eyes and handed Cyril a bottle. Cyril downed the whole thing. "Okay. I'm better now…" Cyril sighed.

"You know if you just drank earlier you wouldn't have these problems," Mallory gave Cyril a look.

"Instead he'd have a host more problems than he **already** does," Ray quipped.

"You have a point," Mallory shrugged.

"Just be the ball," Cyril said as he prepared to putt. "Just be the ball."

He putted the ball. However the hole was slightly uphill and the hit wasn't strong enough. So the ball came right back to where Cyril hit it.

"You're not being the ball Cyril," Ray said.

"Shut up Ray!" Cyril snapped. "That one doesn't count!"

He hit the ball again harder this time. It just missed the hole. Cyril hit to try to score again but missed. And again. And again. And again.

"Damn it!" Cyril snapped as he missed yet another putt.

"Still not being the ball," Ray remarked.

"And he should know about balls," Mallory quipped as she took another drink. "Damn. I had something better for that joke. I'll drink on it."

"Just put a six on the scorecard!" Cyril was frustrated and gave up.

"We were supposed to keep score?" Cherlene blinked.

"Yes!" Cyril fumed. "Lana put me down for a six."

"I'm not keeping score," Lana said.

"Well who is?" Cyril barked.

"Uh…" Everyone looked at each other.

"Oh for crying out…" Cyril groaned. "You know what? It doesn't matter. I'm going to win anyway. Whoever's up next go!"

"Okay…My turn," Ray said as he went to putt. He hit a perfect hole in one.

"How can you hit that well when you never played golf before?" Cyril snapped.

"Because when I was a kid we used to hit pinecones into gopher holes all the time," Ray admitted. "The goal was to take a stick and whack the pinecone then see if it hits the gopher. Only the holes back then were much smaller."

"Hey we used to do that too!" Pam spoke up. "Small world!"

"Too small for my taste," Mallory grumbled.

"Let me try," Lana went to put. "Ugh it's hard to aim when my belly is this huge!"

"Kinda funny isn't it?" Pam snickered. "For once I'm the skinny bitch and you're the fat one!"

"Again! For the ten thousandth time, I am **pregnant!**" Lana snapped.

"It said making the cover of Scientific America," Cherlene giggled.

"You want this putter right up your…?" Lana waved the club.

"Just hit the ball and get on with it!" Cyril shouted.

"Fine! Stop being a bitch about it!" Lana snapped. She hit the ball and it went in. "Huh. I got a hole in one too."

"YOU PEOPLE ARE…AGGGGHHH!" Cyril groaned in frustration. "HOW CAN YOU PEOPLE BE HITTING SO WELL WHEN…AAGGGH! YOU ARE RUINING THIS GAME!"

"Don't blame us! We're trying to throw this game but you suck at it so bad you're making it difficult," Mallory snapped.

"Not our fault you're blowing it, as usual!" Lana agreed.

"Yeah you're not exactly making it easy for us Cyril," Pam remarked.

"Drama queen!" Ray rolled his eyes.

"Duh!" Cherlene agreed.

"Ugh. Why am I playing this game with you people in the first place? This is almost as bad as the time we had to go to the Alabaster Pines Golf Club on a mission," Cyril moaned. "You think I would have learned my lesson after that."

"It wasn't that bad," Mallory scoffed. "Okay it was bad but still…Ray's right. No need to be such a drama queen about it. That's his job!"

"This is almost as bad as that mission," Cyril groaned. "Only Archer's not zooming around on a golf cart running over everyone. And there aren't any explosions. I can't even remember why we were there in the first place!"

"Yeah why were you guys at that golf club when you don't play?" Pam asked.

"ISIS was called in to provide security for the Alabaster Pines' annual tournament," Mallory explained.

"Translation, Mallory made another fake bomb threat so she could brag about being at the club," Ray groaned. "Remember?"

"No. I wasn't on that mission," Lana folded her arms. "Gee I wonder why?"

"Oh God not this **again,"** Mallory groaned. "For the fifteenth time I'm not racist against **you!** That golf course was a stuffy sexist old boys club which barely let me into the restaurant and wouldn't let me into the bar! Trust me. You didn't miss anything."

"Yeah you really dodged a bullet there," Cyril groaned. "And not just figuratively."

"Why? What happened?" Lana asked. "I never found out what went on."

"Well…" Cyril began.

Flashback to about a year ago…

"What do you mean I can't go into the bar?" Mallory Archer was staring down a middle aged gentleman wearing a grey suit in front of a tasteful bar inside the Alabaster Pines clubhouse. Cyril was standing nervously behind her.

"Women are not permitted in the bar at Alabaster Pines," The man sniffed. "You are however permitted to dine in the restaurant."

"But they don't serve alcohol at the restaurant!" Mallory snapped.

"It is according to the policy at Alabaster Pines," The man said.

"A very stupid policy!" Mallory snarled. "What good is a restaurant that doesn't serve alcohol? If I wanted a half rate meal without wine I'd go to McDonalds! Which I suspect half your kitchen staff is originally from considering the state of my flank steak!"

"Uh, Mallory maybe I could order your drink for you and bring it to you?" Cyril suggested.

"Out of the question," The man sniffed. "Alcoholic beverages are only allowed inside the bar and certainly are not allowed to be given to a second party." He gave Mallory a disdainful look.

"Who the hell are you? Mark A. Matthews?" Mallory snapped.

"No, I'm Thomas Wells," The man blinked. "Vice President of the Alabaster Club."

Mallory made a frustrated noise. "Mark A. Matthews was a member of the Prohibition movement but against women's suffrage you ignorant fool! Watch PBS instead of a sports game sometime! You might learn something! For example it's no longer Prohibition and women have the right to drink alcohol!"

"Not at Alabaster Pines," Wells sniffed.

"Oh that was so the wrong thing to say," Cyril winced.

Mallory grabbed Wells by the tie and glared into his eye. "Listen you sexist simpleton," Mallory growled. "I am the head of ISIS! Not some little kitchen wench you're screwing on the side! I'd better get a drink in my hand very soon or else I will be very unhappy! And when I get unhappy, your Chairman of the board will hear about this!"

"Mr. McDougal is in a very important meeting and…UHHHH!" Wells gasped as Mallory kneed him in the groin then threw him aside.

"Out of my way!" Mallory brushed the man off and stormed into the bar.

"I'm very sorry," Cyril apologized to Wells. "You might want to consider changing your restaurant policy in the future. And FYI…The flank steak was a little overcooked. Just saying!"

"The nerve of these people!" Mallory bristled as she stormed into the bar. "If I had known about the lack of service in this idiotic establishment I never would have called in that bomb…I mean never accepted this assignment! No amount of money is worth this! Even if I did beat that cow Trudy Beekman here!"

"Uh can we have a couple of drinks please?" Cyril asked the bartender. "And quickly!"

"How much you want to bet that bitch Beekman never even intended to go to the club's restaurant here but just said she did just to make **me** jealous?" Mallory huffed as she went to the bar. "That lush would never haul her enormous carcass anywhere without a free drink!"

"Seriously. A couple of scotches please," Cyril gulped. "Fast!"

"What the hell are all of you looking at?" Mallory snarled at the few male elderly patrons in the bar. "Haven't you ever seen a woman before?"

"Not in the bar at Alabaster Pines," The bartender stiffened.

"Oh great **another **one!" Mallory groaned. "Just get me a drink before I really become unhappy!"

"Trust me, you don't want her to be unhappy," Cyril warned.

"FORE!" Archer was heard yelling cheerfully. Then the shattering of glass was heard. "SORRY! MY BAD!"

"I refuse," The bartender folded his arms. "And don't bother trying to open the bar cabinet. I've locked it so you can't get in."

"Wanna bet?" Mallory pulled out her weapon.

"I warned them," Cyril moaned.

With several rounds of shots Mallory blew open the lock of the cabinet. "Ha! Still got it!"

One of the bullets ricocheted and hit the bartender in the arm. "AAAH! YOU SHOT ME!" The bartender screamed and ran away.

"Please, if I **really** shot you…You'd know it!" Mallory scoffed as she sat at the bar. "Cyril…"

"Right away," Cyril went back to the bar and prepared to pour Mallory a glass.

CRASH!

"PLAYING THROUGH!" Archer was heard as he drove his golf cart by the bar inside the clubhouse. "WHOO!"

"Oh great. **That's **coming out of our fee," Cyril groaned as he poured Mallory a glass.

"I know. That Wells is the type to bitch about anything," Mallory took the drink and had a sip.

"WHOOOOO!" Archer whooped as he drove the golf cart around the building waving a club in one hand. Men in golf attire were running for their lives.

"Does Archer even know how to play golf?" Cyril asked.

"Probably not," Mallory shrugged.

CRASH!

"Well that explains why he's whacking the ball like it's a polo ball while driving the cart at the same time," Cyril remarked.

"FORE! FIVE! WHATEVER!" Archer whooped as something else broke. "MAN I LOVE THIS GAME!"

CRASH!

"Ms. Archer!" Wells stormed in with Krieger behind him. "You have destroyed the sanctity and tradition of Alabaster Pines! Get away from that counter! You are not allowed to be served here!"

"So this is what it's like to be Lana?" Mallory paused before she took a drink. "I don't care for it."

"What I do not care for Madam is how you and your gang of hooligans have disrupted this club!" Wells yelled. "Not only have you shot our bartender and broke some of our oldest traditions, but one of your agents has destroyed half the golf course and the club house with his tomfoolery!"

"WHOOO! LOOK! I CAN DO A WHEELIE!" Archer drove by doing a wheelie on the golf cart. "WHOOO HOOO!"

"And the other half has been destroyed by this one!" Wells pointed to Krieger.

"You should be **thanking** me!" Krieger shouted. "This golf course had a serious gopher problem!"

BOOOM!

"Note the past tense of the word," Krieger said as the building shook slightly as an explosion was heard.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

"And some of those trees probably needed to be cut down anyway," Krieger shrugged.

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

"And that hole on the back nine is a lot bigger now," Krieger whistled as a rather large cloud of smoke and fire was seen in the distance.

"AAAAAHHH!" Outside the window a man ran by on fire.

"I think one of your caddies has just caught on fire," Cyril blinked.

"That wasn't me," Krieger blinked. "At least I'm pretty sure it wasn't me."

"We would have been safer with the eco-terrorists than you!" Wells yelled.

"I'm guessing we're not going to get paid?" Cyril sighed.

"A very astute guess!" Wells bristled. "I am personally going to sue you all for damages! And I will personally make sure that none of you is allowed on any type of golf course ever again! Even if it's miniature!"

"Well then I guess I might as well just do this," Mallory sighed. "Cyril hand me that bottle of Grand Cru Burgundy 52."

Cyril did so. Mallory then smashed the bottle on Well's head and he crumpled to the ground. "Oh my god!" Cyril gasped.

"Don't worry. The 52 Burgundy is an off year anyway," Mallory waved as she went around the back of the bar. "No big loss."

"Well this whole mission is a big loss!" Cyril shouted. "Oh my god! All those trees are on fire!"

"Just shut up and help me grab some bottles from the bar!" Mallory snapped at her subordinates. "We can just sell some of this on the black market!"

Back to the present.

"And that is why ISIS is banned from nearly every golf course in the entire state of New York," Cyril finished.

"Huh. So that's what those explosions were all about?" Ray blinked.

"Where the hell were you during all of that?" Cyril asked.

"Oh I was in the men's locker room with the one of the members of the board," Ray said. "Mr. McDougal. We were…"

"Stop!" Mallory barked. "I don't want to know. Although it does explain why he wasn't interested in me."

"Yeah **that's **the reason," Cherlene snorted.

"It also explains why you, Archer and the others weren't arrested for assault and destruction of a golf course," Ray gave her a look. "You're welcome!"

"Fourth worst time at a golf course ever," Mallory grunted. "But at least I was able to steal some excellent scotch from those miserable bastards. Serves them right for not allowing me into their bar!"

"So much for that threat of us never playing golf again," Cyril sighed. "Although at this point it may not be such a bad thing. Cherlene you're up."

"About time," Cherlene remarked as she went to hit the ball. "WHOOO HOOO!" She hit the ball very hard and it sailed far away.

"Well at least one of you knows how to throw a game," Cyril groaned.

"I'm not exactly sure she knows what game we're playing," Lana said.

"I hit it! I hit the tree!" Cherlene whooped. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?" She yelled to someone that wasn't there. "That's my ball! Get away from that ball!"

"Who is she talking to?" Ray blinked.

"That kangaroo stole my ball!" Cherlene yelled. She ran away waving her putter wildly. "DIE YOU OVERGROWN MARSUPIAL!"

"Great instead of seeing ostriches she's now seeing kangaroos," Pam groaned.

"Okay I think that chip in her brain has malfunctioned again," Ray winced.

"Ya think?" Lana groaned. "That and probably a combination of whatever is in those weird gummy bears she eats."

WHACK!

"HA HA HA!" Cherlene was now chasing around a soldier that had been guarding the perimeter. "DIE KANGAROO DIE!"

"I'm bored with this stupid game already," Mallory waved. "And the ice in this golf bag has already melted. I'm going to find some more of those presidential wines." She walked away.

"I'm going to go find a bathroom," Lana winced. "Excuse me!" She ran off as fast as a pregnant woman could go.

"Not a bad idea," Pam said. "Which way is the soldiers' barracks again? I feel like having some fun in the men's showers."

"I'll show you," Ray indicated and the two went off.

"HA HA HA! I'VE GOT YOU KANGAROO!" Cherlene chased around the poor soldier. "Why isn't kangaroo whacking a sport?"

"Why the hell haven't I locked **these** people up in the dungeon too is a mystery to me!" Cyril groaned as he took another drink.


End file.
